The Putnam Hall Champions

“Well, you go straight to bed, and after this, if you want any lemons you call one of the servants or teachers; do you hear?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Wait just a moment. What was that noise upstairs?”

“Where?”

“In the neighborhood of your dormitory.”

“I don’t know,” said Coulter.

“Maybe it was made by the boys who locked us in,” was Reff Ritter’s comment.

“I see. Well, go to bed. If I hear any more noise, or learn of any more prowling around in the dark, I’ll make an example of somebody,” added Captain Putnam, and with that the two cadets were dismissed, and they lost no time in making for their dormitory. There they learned from Mumps how the sneak had been treated by Pepper and Hogan.

“That chunk of ice was as cold as – as Greenland!” said the sneak, dismally. “It melted right on my backbone, so how could I help but make a noise. There are the two pitchers. I wish I could fire them at somebody’s head!”

“Put them out in the hall – away from our door,” ordered Ritter. “If they are found here they will make more trouble – and we’ve had enough for one night.”

“Jack Ruddy’s crowd put this up our back,” was Coulter’s comment. “Oh, how I wish I could get square with them!”

“I am glad I didn’t go downstairs,” came from Nick Paxton.

“Then you didn’t get hold of the strawberry shortcakes at all,” said Mumps.

“No, and we don’t know if they got ’em, either,” answered Coulter. “Maybe you were mistaken, Mumpsy.”

“No, I wasn’t mistaken.”

“Well, we made a fizzle of getting the cakes anyway,” growled Ritter. “I am going to bed,” and in a thoroughly bad humor he turned in, and his cronies followed his example.

The joke on Coulter, Ritter, and Mumps could not be kept, and by the next day many students were laughing at the two bullies and the sneak. This made the three very angry, but they did not dare to say anything in public, for fear of getting into trouble with Captain Putnam.

The contest between Coulter and Andy Snow was to come off in the gymnasium that afternoon after school and, as a consequence, quite a number of students assembled to witness what was to take place. A large number thought Andy would win out, yet Gus Coulter had quite a few supporters, for he was known to be not only large but strong.

When Andy came in Coulter had not yet arrived. At once Andy began to practice. As soon as he did this Nick Paxton came up to him.

“Do you want to swing against me?” demanded Paxton.

“No, I have a contest with Coulter to-day,” answered Andy shortly. He had no use for Paxton, and was not above letting the latter know it.

“Afraid, eh?” sneered the other cadet.

“No, I am not afraid of you, Paxton, and you know it,” answered Andy, promptly.

“Yes, you are afraid,” growled the other boy, and moved off. In a minute, however, he came back, and seizing hold of a long rope suspended from the gymnasium ceiling, commenced to swing upon it.

Jack and Pepper came in, and they stood talking to Andy as Paxton continued to swing back and forth, close at hand. Then Paxton changed his course, so that his feet struck Jack on the arm.

“Stop that, Paxton!” cried the young major, but before he could say more the cadet on the rope launched himself forward again, with feet extended, and caught Andy in the left wrist. The blow was so strong that the acrobatic youth was bowled over on the polished floor.

“Ouch, my wrist!” cried Andy, as he scrambled up. Then he gazed sharply at Paxton. “What did you do that for?” he demanded.

“Excuse me, I didn’t mean to touch you,” was the short answer, and Paxton dropped from the rope and started for the other end of the gymnasium.

“Hold on there!” cried Pepper, and ran after Paxton.

“What do you want, Pep Ditmore?”

“You struck Andy on purpose!”

“I did not!”

“And I say you did! It was a mean thing to do.”

“Oh, you make me tired,” grunted Nick Paxton, but his tone betrayed his uneasiness.

“I believe you struck Andy so as to injure him,” said Jack. To this Paxton made no answer. Instead he moved on, and soon lost himself in a crowd of boys in another part of the gymnasium.

“Andy, does your wrist hurt much?” questioned Pepper, turning to his acrobatic chum.

“Yes, it does,” was the answer. “See, he scraped part of the skin off.”

“He ought to be hammered for it,” was Pepper’s emphatic declaration.

Andy walked over to a sink and there allowed the water to run over his wrist. Soon there was a small swelling, which pained considerably. Jack helped to tie a handkerchief around the bruised member.

“Well, Snow, are you ready for the contest?” demanded Gus Coulter, walking up. He had just passed Nick Paxton, and the latter had winked at him suggestively.

“Andy has been hurt,” explained Jack. “Paxton kicked him in the wrist.”

“Huh! Is this a trick to get out of meeting me?” grumbled Gus Coulter.

“No, it is no trick!” exclaimed Andy.

“Andy, you can’t meet him with your wrist in such bad shape,” expostulated Pepper.

“Postpone it until to-morrow,” suggested Dale, who was present.

“If he is to meet me at all it must be to-day,” said Coulter, flatly. “That bruise doesn’t amount to a hill of beans. I’ve got a hurt myself,” and he showed the back of his left hand, which had been slightly scratched by a playful kitten several days before.

“That is nothing to Andy’s bruise,” said Pepper. “See, his wrist is quite swelled.”

“Never mind, I’ll meet him, anyway – and beat him, too,” declared Andy. “Come on – I am ready if you are!”

CHAPTER VI

ANDY SNOW’S VICTORY